


dial tones, voicemails

by Serpents_Cradle



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Blood, Career Ending Injuries, Grief/Mourning, Hospitals, Hurt No Comfort, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Non-Graphic Violence, Prose Poem
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-09
Updated: 2019-01-09
Packaged: 2019-10-07 03:13:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 862
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17357858
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Serpents_Cradle/pseuds/Serpents_Cradle
Summary: hellodo you remember me?scars and bruises,memories, tragedies compiledyou left me all alone--He knew he should stop doing this, but even if he were to delete the number, he still knew it by heart.





	dial tones, voicemails

**Author's Note:**

> **WARNING: THIS WORK IS POTENTIALLY TRIGGERING.** It contains mentions of **extreme violence** and **suicide**. These topics are not described in graphic detail, but **please read the tags** to decide if this fic is right for you.
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own anyone mentioned or depicted. Please remember that RPF is fictional. Don't go and harass nhlers about their love lives over fic.

_hello_

_do you remember me?_

_scars and bruises,_

_memories, tragedies compiled_

_you left me all alone_

\---

Zhenya let his eyes slide closed at the sound of Sid's voice, crackling and distorted through the phone speaker. He sounded almost like he used to, although Zhenya was pretty sure he hadn't changed his voicemail since 2007 when he first opened the phone line.

“Hello, you've reached Sidney Crosby. Leave your message at the tone,” Zhenya whispered, without even really thinking about it. The familiar words washed over him like waves, pulling him under and into the riptide again. 

He knew he should stop doing this, but even if he were to delete the number, he still knew it by heart.

\---

_hello_

_do you remember me?_

_your friend, barely eighteen,_

_when love was what healed_

_scraped knees and tears_

\---

He still remembers, vaguely, the sounds and sights. The chaos on the ice, the way his Captain's blood ran red over the gold of the penguins logo in the center. It's an image that is emblazoned into his skull, a noose wrapped around his neck but held just loosely enough he cannot help but live.

He remembers the satisfying crunch of bone when he shattered the Flyer's nose with his fist, just to get the match penalty so he could follow the stretcher down the hall and into the dressing room. There were more important things than the game.

He wishes he had known that sooner.

\---

_hello_

_do you remember me?_

_lost in a sea of blood_

_blinded white and starskied_

_hospital beds replaced my arms_

\---

He had stayed close on the way to the hospital. He had been more afraid of what would happen if he dared to let go, if Sidney's eyes refused to stay focused on his face and slid closed. 

The monitor they'd hooked up on the rickety ambulance began to flash, but all Zhenya could see was the soft slope of his best friend's eyes, the way his lips curled up even where blood ran down his cheek. Even when the scent of commercial antiseptic was overwhelmed by the tang of blood, Sid didn't let go. He kept his eyes trained on Zhenya's, however blurred they may have been.

Sid would fight.

\---

_hello_

_do you remember me?_

_even when the light_

_in your eyes faded,_

_i still felt your heartbeat_

\---

Zhenya hadn't been there. He hadn't known until he got the voicemail after practice, Trina's voice soft with grief but still so distinctly her it was impossible to pretend. Sid sounded like her, he thought; the same slope to her vowels and clip on her consonants. Too much bleeding in the brain, they said. She had signed the forms this morning.

The last thing he had said had been simple, his fingers twined gently in Sid's and the tears in his eyes threatening to spill over. He had promised Sid he wouldn't cry, because it wasn't what Sid wanted. Zhenya had whispered “I love you” into the soft curls at the top of his head before the nurse had informed him it was time to go.

He had managed to make it to the showers, and then he collapsed and began to weep.

\---

_hello_

_do you remember me?_

_i planted a lily for you today_

_ghostly pale but full of life_

_i miss you_

\---

The funeral had passed as all things did, but for some reason it seemed it would never end. The team had come, all of them, Horny's hand soft on Zhenya's back throughout the ceremony. He didn't want to look up, but he did, taking in the softness of his features. His crows’ feet were smudged away by the hands of fate.

Zhenya had not cried. He leaned into Tanger's embrace and just stood there, numb, uncaring what the rest of the world thought. He wondered distantly what it it would be like. First Kunitz and Flower, and now Sid, swept away in fits of luck. They were only two now. Who would be next?

He held Kris close and hoped to God he would never have to know.

\---

_hello_

_do you remember me?_

_i can't forget your smile, but_

_now i can only think of the past_

_like we used to think of the future_

\---

Zhenya didn't speak into the receiver. He never did, just stared into space and kept pressing four so the message would replay, letting the dark in him blossom. Wet stained his cheeks. In his left hand, he held his phone; in his right, something far more sinister. The metal of the barrel bit into his hand just right. 

He had retired. He knew it wasn't what Sid would have wanted, he would have wanted him to play for both of them, but he couldn't stand wearing the C. It didn't belong to him. It belonged to a man who had been six feet under for five years. 

His heart belonged to the same man, and when he lifted his right hand and closed his eyes again, he didn't bother to open them.

\---

_hello_

_do you remember me?_

_i have not called in a while_

_i hope you remember._

_please don't forget me_

**Author's Note:**

> come find me on tumblr at [@evgenismalkin](https://evgenismalkin.tumblr.com).


End file.
